A/N: Here it is! I will be doing about this size for chapters. Also, I will try to upload every Sunday around 10-11pm EST.

Chapter 2

Red Eyes Wears Leather Jackets

Stiles rummaged through his room to find something, anything, that would help him figure out the missing pieces from last night. The morning was slightly chilling, cooling the edges of the room as Stiles searched. He practically threw aside a stack of books that were lazily sitting on his desk, sending them clashing to the floor without remorse. Stiles paused in his tracks. A leather jacket was sprawled messily on his desk under where his books had been not two minutes ago. He frantically spun his head around, confused for a second. He didn't own any leather jackets.

Stiles pondered in his thoughts for an explanation. He silently castigated himself for being such a novice with the whole " Ima detective inspector" thing. And the destitution continues with his predicament…

Perhaps there was more to last night than Stiles thought. Maybe. He still couldn't figure out why the jacket was placed oh-so-carefully under his books instead of just thrown haphazardly on his desk. The wooden piece of furniture was a mahogany so dark that you could say that it was sanguinary or really scrumptious, dark cherries if you wanted to sound vulgar. He removed the jacket, and saw the fresh stain lain on the desk from the night before. He had unintentionally knocked over a whole can of orange soda he had been drinking while he wrote. He had practically desecrated the beautiful blood-red of the wood. The viscid can had been discarded, and the jacket showed no trace of said stickiness on it.

If the jacket had been there when Stiles had spilled it at, oh, 7 o'clock when he had spilled the slimy carbonated beverage, then it too would be a mess. Probably soaked through, and completely ruined despite his efforts, that would have been, to clean it. That would mean that someone had placed it there during the duration of the time period he had no recollection of. Don't look at Stiles! He doesn't own any leather jackets. Considering that if he did own one, he would most like ly never wear it, warily carrying on with his life.

"This is ludicrous!" Stiles whimpered aloud to himself. "It was probably Red Eyes, he would have carelessly left his jacket here!" Stiles was right the man did seem the type for leather, and albeit he looked oh-so-fine in it as well. He picked a good time to exclaim his thoughts aloud, for his exhaustive father was walking by his bedroom door, and had decided to say goodbye before he left for work. It truncated his thoughts, desisting them.

"Son, I just wanted to-" his father started a little sheepishly, halting for a moment when he looked up and saw the state of his son's room. "Stiles! What are you on about? And what happened to your room?! Do I need to take away your computer to get you to clean it? Son, just do it! …And have a nice day."

"I'm fine dad, just… looking for something." Stiles gave a nervous laugh, hoping his father didn't notice the nervous part of it. "And no you don't, I got it."

He mumbled something under his breath resembling "I prefer Narnia…" and then just a whole gaggle of incoherent white noise. This is when Stiles flopped down on his bed, earning a squeak from the arrangement of springs beneath him. He heaved a sigh, prompting his father to questioningly, slowly close the door to his son's bedroom, which was in a serious state of distress.

"Oh! And Dad?" Stiles raised his voice quite effectively. His dad frighteningly opened his door, peeking through only enough to catch his son's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I thin-*cough*-k I'm comi-*cough*-ng downwiththeflu." He said the last part in one breath so that he wouldn't have to fake another cough.

"Fine. Be a truant for all I care. You have to live with yourself…" His tone was cantankerous, harsh, sarcastic even. He knew that he would get a resemblance of something salutary later. A lesson; he was sure of it. His father looked down for a moment, and Stiles knew that he was thinking of his mother. "Just make sure you finish your work." He tone changed completely, and he faked a short, sad smile at Stiles. The sheriff shut the door without another word, stifling a small sob as he got into his car, and left for a long day.

Once his father left the house, Stiles' thoughts became more lucid than ever before. He needed to find Red Eyes. It would be hard. He didn't even know the guy's name, for christ sake ! All he had was an ambivalent description, blurred by the fog, and whatever had drawn him to the woods last night.

He mostly only remembered the glowing red eyes that shone through the night. And he knows, those impious red eyes had somehow pierced his soul. He didn't know how; wondered even. But they did.

His room was ornate with most of his possessions. From one side of his room to the other, there was almost no visible just-off-white carpet. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the little light that shone through the window, made shadows on the soft carpet. It was all covered by one thing or another. Stiles groaned, for he knew he would be spending most of his day picking all of this up, instead of doing what he really wanted, and that was looking for Red Eyes. He was hoping he could do it precipitously, so he could do some Detective Inspector things. He sure liked those things. And he did, messily putting things back to where they belonged. He didn't really care too much to have things looking overly neat, so he just made things look presentable. After all, he never knew when a hot guy would just happen to show up in his bedroom.

Research wouldn't hurt. He needed to find out who Red Eyes was. Stiles pulled his desk chair over to the desk with a roll, and he shuttered the old laptop to a start. The old, rickety thing was a piece of crap. It took countless minutes to start, and it reboots constantly. Stiles needed to save his money for a new one.

He wouldn't forget his paper, though. Later, his mind told him. He would procrastinate once again. Not that Mr. Harris didn't hate him enough as it is.

He opened the browser, and pulled up the search engine. His hands hovered over the keyboard in anticipation. He lightly skimmed his fingertips on the smooth surface, and was surprised by the chill of the laptop. It had been left on the floor all night, no doubt collecting the cool breeze from the night that loomed over his head. Stiles wondered what in the world he should type in… not leather jackets. Oh, the images that should come up. NO. Stiles, focus. So maybe strange animal attacks in the area? He read that with packs, animal attacks were common in the surrounding towns.

He let his fingers press the black keys of the keyboard, his fingernails tapping quietly on the surface of the plastic. Wow, he really needed to cut his fingernails, Stiles decided. Anyways, he typed in "Animal attacks in Beacon Hills, California." He was surprised how many results came up.

He scrolled down the page, his mouth slightly hanging open from the surprise. A man named Derek Hale. Wait, Stiles heard that name before… Think, Stiles. THINK. Realization hit him like a stack of million bricks, and he slammed right into it. Hale, the family that burned in the house fire 10 years ago, lynching 9 bodies; faulty electricity or something like that.

Derek got arrested for the murder of his sister, Laura, but was soon released for lack of evidence. The man in the picture looked just like Red Eyes, and he was wearing the same leather jacket as Stiles had on his desk. The picture was taken as he was hauled into his father's police car.

Stiles also found some weird articles on animals in the area; spiral-like tattoos on their bodies. He had read something about spirals in his many dabbles with the books on lycanthropy. It was like a mark, a symbol that claimed a territory for a pack, or an alpha.

He wrote down the address for the site of the previous arson. Stiles quickly grabbed his keys and his red hoodie. They were not far from where he last left them, in the middle of his floor. He put them there so that he wouldn't have to go searching for them when he was in a hurry. Expedient, it was. He also grabbed a hold of the leather jacket, and threw it over his shoulder. His intentions would be to give the jacket back, if Derek had asked. Stiles ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the bottom, he grabbed ahold of the brass door handle, and yanked open the front door. He scrambled for his jeep, practically falling, twice, in the process.

He plugged in the address on his GPS with shaking hands, after throwing the leather jacket on the passenger seat. Maybe, Stiles, you should have taken more Adderall this morning…. His jeep shuddered to life after he plunged the keys in, almost painfully, and forcefully turned them in their place. Stiles turned his head, peeking at the leather jacket as if it had eyes, second guessing if this was the right thing to do. Shaking away the notion, he skidded down the street. He didn't care if he was pulled over, all of the deputies knew not to give the sheriff's son a ticket. It always worked to his advantage. He smirked at the thought.

He reached a long dirt path, and wondered if maybe he plugged in the wrong address, or if his GPS was just plain stupid. Stiles kept plunging on, though. He was curious, after all, to see what was at the end of the path. His car roared a bit as he rounded the sharp turns with a little bit too much speed. He released the gas pedal and screeched to a stop in front of the charred mansion of a house. He took his keys out of the car, and stepped out of his car, the leaves crunching beneath his feet. Stiles shut the door forcefully, grabbing the jacket before he did, and took one step towards the house.

A wind caught his body in a trance and he was stopped in his tracks; his entirety ossified. Stiles looked up to one of the broken windows of the top floor. He saw the man in the pictures, Derek Hale. The man flashed his eyes red, but Stiles couldn't decode the look on the Derek's face into any one emotion.

"I know you can hear me, Hale." Stiles spoke with confidence, his eyes never straying from the other man's.

Derek came away from the window, and Stiles thought for a moment that he should just turn around and leave, but he was reminded of why he came. He wanted answers. Stiles eyes widened when Derek came through the front door, sin a shirt. He would never admit it, but his pupils dilated just the slightest.

The man's muscles protruded from the rest of his body, and shined under the sunlight of the early morning. He ran his fingers through his hair, letting the dark of it smother his fingers. His lips were luscious, like he had been drinking water. He shivered at the thought of biting said lips.

Stiles swallowed, and cleared his throat. "So?" He asked, a threat on the edge of his tongue, but he reigned it back in. He liked his face very much, he didn't want anything to happen to it.

"So what?" Derek asked back, annoyance invading the alpha's voice at the edges.

"So, why did I find your leather jacket in my room? And why were you in the woods last night, when I just happened to be there?" Stiles held up the leather jacket, and cocked his head to one side to aid the look of confusion on his face.

"You don't remember?" Derek edged closer. "When you hit your head, I checked it to make sure you didn't fall to o hard. I didn't think it was that bad…. I carried you home, and I must have left my jacket at your house…. Don't worry, though. I'm not some creep, I respected your privacy."

Stiles inhaled at Derek's inch forward. The other man smelled of sweat and cologne. Stiles' head spun and Derek had to steady him.

"Why don't we go inside? You should sit down." Derek looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowing at the sides. He clutched Stiles' biceps with his big hands, holding him in place. He made Stiles hook his arm around Derek's back so that Stiles could put his weight on Derek.

Stiles didn't mind, though. Derek was so built that he looked like he could carry twice Stiles' weight. When they got inside, Derek led him to a soft, maroon couch that was in the middle of what Stiles suspected was the living room; ostentatious in such a dreary environment. It looked so out of place; a nice looking couch, most likely new, in the middle of the beat-down house, nothing surrounding it except the capaciousness of the house. By the state of the house, a person could be led to thin k that whoever resided in the house would be impoverished, but assuming his family had insurance, he would have collected a large sum of money when they all died. Stiles nearly collapsed on the couch, exhaustion overtaking him. He must have gotten less sleep than he thought. How long had he been in the woods last night?

"What were you doing out in the woods in the middle of the night?" Stiles started, breaking the silence.

"I could ask you the same question." Derek responded, his voice becoming slightly darker, and a shiver ran through Stiles' body. "I don't even know your name, but you should be thanking me. Most people would have left you there."

"Thank you, Derek. I'm Stiles, by the way, sorry…." He trailed off, becoming more tired by the second.

"Interesting name…. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could make you something." Derek was being too nice for someone who was previously accused of a felony. Not that Stiles was complaining. Hmmmm… maybe it was just him. Stiles did have that effect on people.

"Yeah, I'm kind of hungry…" His stomach growled angrily, reminding him of the breakfast he never had.

The sun was now up, now. The light shown through the holes in the windows, and it fell in little not-circles on the dusty hardwood floor. Derek turned and walked into the kitchen, his butt shaking slightly with every step he took. Stiles' eyes didn't leave the sight of Derek's backside until it disappeared behind the wall.

"Turkey or roast beef?" Derek shouted from the kitchen in between the soft pufffffffh of what he assumed was the refrigerator opening and closing. He walked to the doorframe, and leaned subtly on the frame.

"Turkey." Stiles' voice got a little bit visibly lower, and Derek's head snapped inadvertantly to allow his eyes to latch onto Stiles'. He held the other man's gaze for a moment. Derek let his eyes wander to the floor, and he cleared his throat.

"White, or wheat?" Stiles could tell that Derek was trying to keep his composure. So, it wasn't just Stiles then…. Stiles smirked when he knew the alpha wasn't looking.

"Wheat, cheese, and mayo… please." He added the last part trying to be polite. He remembered that the man had taken care of him; tucked him into his bed, checked on his head, even carried him home, for Christ sake!

"Okayyyyyy…."

Stiles took that as a queue, and walked into the living room, hugging his own body.

When Derek finished, he came into the living room and placed the ceramic plate on the coffee table. He sat next to Stiles, closer than he would have expected. Stiles surrendered to his hunger, finally sinking his teeth into the sandwich. He closed his eyes and moaned, chewing ever so slowly. When he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him wide-eyed. Derek licked his lips, and hung his mouth open. It looked like he was trying to say something, but no words were coming out.

"Sorry…." Stiles managed, wiping the stray mayonnaise from his mouth with the side of his hand. He let the skin be dragged by his hand. He saw that Derek's eyes had been following his lips, leaning over even more with every second that passed. His stare was almost derogatory, and his eyes looked to Stiles' for approval. Stiles gave a quite nod and plunged forward, catching the other man's lips in a kiss. He stole just a few seconds, and then leaned his forehead against Derek's.

The next thing Stiles knows, he is being straddled on the couch, being rendered senseless by the rubbing of the other man's dick against his own. This was going much faster, and not to mention easier, than Stiles would have thought….

A/N: I am taking prompts. Just little things to work into the storyline, or add as one-shots/new stories, so leave those in the comments! All the shows I am willing to write are on my profile, but I will also take requests for other ones, just in case I would like to give it a shot! Don't be afraid to share your prompts, I don't bite, much ;D See you guys next Sunday! xx Shelby